Toujours Dans Mon Coeur
by Aerenii
Summary: Richard and Simonne try to build their life together. Richard/OC
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: More Richard and Simonne. This is probably going to be very long, if I don't end up splitting it in two. We'll see how it turns out when I get to that point. **

**I am going to TRY to put Simonne's accent on the names, but I may forget occasionally (or completely) or just get tired of it after a few chapters. **

_**February, 1922 Atlantic City, New Jersey**_

Simonne clung to Richard's hand as they stood in front of Enoch 'Nucky' Thompson. The gaunt, blue-eyed treasurer of Atlantic City regarded them for a long while, and when he finally spoke it was to say to Richard "You're gone for almost two months and the only thing you have to show for it is...her?" he waved his hand at Simonne.

"Monsieur Thompson, s'il vous plait. It is not _Ree-shard's_ fault zat he was gone for so long. C'est moi...I am ze reason." Simonne let go of Richard's hand, even though she felt like she was letting go of a life line, and she moved closer to Nucky, looking sad and apologetic. "You must not be mad at him," she continued. "He...he helped with with a...problem zat I had, a problem zat I could not handle myself. _Ree-shard_ he helped to right a wrong zat was done to me..."

"You seem to think I give a fuck," Nucky said.

"I zink zat you do," Simonne said, studying Nucky carefully. Richard knew that tone of voice, and he figured Nucky Thompson had fifteen minutes before he was completely charmed by the French woman before him. "I zink, Monsieur Thompson, zat you understand ze need to bring justice to zose who have wronged you, oui?" Nucky nodded, and Simonne silently begged Richard's forgiveness for bringing this up, knowing even hinting at what Nucky Thompson had done to Richard's best friend would hurt him, but she had to do it, to keep Richard himself from getting killed. "You, Monsieur Thompson, you most likely have more experience as zis zan I...I do not zink I am wrong to assume zat, being a man in power, you have had many people do zings to hurt you, and zat you have had to deal with zese zings forcefully, on occasion. Moi, however...I did not know how to go about what needed to be done, mais, _Ree-shard_, he did know, and he was able to show me, and he helped to keep me safe zrough it, and..." She paused and looked back at Richard, her love evident in her eyes, "he is ze only reason I came zrough what happened to me with anyzing zat resembled sanity." She looked back at Nucky, her eyes wide and pleading. "Please, if you must be angry at someone, it should be me zat you are angry at, not him."

Nucky looked at Simonne, his face impassive. He was extremely curious about how this couple came to be, to look at the two of them it seemed the most unlikely pairing imaginable. She was beautiful and worldly, he was scarred and introverted. She was easy too like, Nucky had to admit, falling under her spell in spite of himself. Richard...well...Nucky knew he was a nice enough guy, if you could get him to open up any, and he was surprisingly good with children, but Richard just didn't look like the kind of man you wanted to get to know. Finally, he asked, and he found himself smiling when Simonne smiled and told the story of how she and Richard first met in Paris, how they were reunited three years later in Atlantic City. "I had a special Christmas surprise for _Ree-shard_," she said. "Merci for letting him journey to Paris, by ze way...mais, ze surprise, zat went over very well, unfortunately, mon pére had a surprise for me zat...did not go over so well..." Simonne looked at Nucky's desk for a moment, taking a deep breath to steel herself. When she looked back at Nucky, he noticed her eyes had gone flat, that charming sparkle gone, and her voice took on a tone of recitation, as if she were repeating something she had learned, not something she herself had experienced. "I suddenly found myself with a fiance zat I did not want, because I was in love with _Ree-shard_. And zis man, on top planning to kill mon frére et mon pére, he et four of his friends brutally raped and beat me. I needed to make zem pay, Monsieur Thompson. _Ree-shard_ showed me how. I did not come out of it...right, here," she made a waving motion at her head. _"Ree-shard,_ he has helped me to not...be trapped in my zoughts, for zey sometimes run in circles and will overwhelm me. It is because of zis zat Richard was gone so long. Zat is why I am ze one you should be angry with."

"Jesus," Nucky said, "I'm not that much of a heartless bastard." He chose to ignore the quiet snort that came from Richard. He did look at the tall marksman, however. "I understand. I still think a more informative phone call would have been nice, however."

"I, mm. Hate the...phone," Richard replied.

Nucky opened his mouth, but Simonne interrupted, a smile on her face "I have tried to make him understand ze benefits, mais mon amour zinks ze phone is a horrible invention. He says it is too intrusive, zat it makes it too easy for people to pester you. I zink he is quite old fashioned." She smiled fondly at Richard, and a small smile crossed his face. It was the first time he'd seen the veteran smile, Nucky realized. He hadn't been entirely sure Richard was capable of it, given the extent of his injuries.

"But zat is part of ze reason zat I love him so." And Richard blushed and looked down at his shoes. "Ah, oui! Also because he is so modest. And zen zere is his sense of humor. Oui, he does have one," she assured Nucky when he looked at her with arched eyebrows. "It is...tending to be dark humor, mais it is zere. Ah, je m'excuse. I am probably telling you zings you do not need to know."

Nucky leaned forward, elbows on his desk and looked Simonne in the eye. "Why do I like you?" Nucky asked her, honestly curious. "Why are you so...so...?" He wondered how he could use her to his advantage.

"We all have our strengths, Monsieur Thompson. You, you are good at,...s'il vous plait, do not take offense if my words do not quite sound flattering. Sometimes my English does not come out correctly." Nucky nodded, willing to hear her out. "You are good at running people. Zere are many who work for you, you must make sure zat zey all do what zey are supposed to, and zis is somezing zat takes great intelligence as well as great skill, oui?" Nucky nodded once more. Simonne began pacing, her hands clasped behind her back. Richard watched her carefully, wondering what she was up to. "_Ree-shard_, he is very good at killing people. You know zis, of course. You also know zat he can be quite intimidating, alzough zat is mostly because people are stupid and do not zink to look beyond ze surface of zings. So because _Ree-shard_ does not look 'normal' he must not be 'normal' and zerefore he must be feared. Zis is part of ze reason you give him some of ze jobs zat you do, oui? He will eizer frighten ze people into what you want, or he will kill zem. But Richard, he does not like zis. He is a gentle man, Monsieur Thompson. He does not like zat people fear him, or even pity him. So zese jobs, zey kill a little of him each time." Richard shifted uncomfortably. He didn't think Nucky wanted or needed to know these things. He was pretty certain he didn't want Nucky to know these things. Nucky was looking at him like he was seeing him as human for the first time. "I do not like knowing zat Richard is sad," Simonne said as she stopped in front of Nucky's desk and placed her hands on the surface, leaning forward to look the treasurer in the eyes. "Zat is where I can be useful. As you have noticed, I am likable. I am also good at getting people to do what I zink zey should, especially if it is somezing zey may not want to do. I can save _Ree-shard_ a great deal of pain, not to mention avoid a great deal of ….quel est le mode?...Scrutiny? Zat too many dead bodies may raise."

"What do you have in mind?" Nucky asked, sitting back in his chair.

But Richard knew, and he'd be damned if he was going to let her get involved in it.

"No," he said firmly, stepping up beside her and looking at her sternly. She straightened and glared back at him stubbornly. "Oui."

"No."

"Oui."

"No."

"Oui."

_I hope to God they don't argue often if it always goes like this. They'll never get anything figured out, _Nucky thought before he cut in with "Why don't you two go home and discuss this. In detail," he clarified, easily imagining them repeating 'oui' and 'no' for hours. "Take a couple of days to get settled, work this out. Come back and see me next week."


	2. Chapter 2

"No."

"Oui."

"No."

"Oui."

"No!"

"Pourqoui pas? We have been arguing for an hour and still I do not know why you do not want zis."

"Let's start with, mm. The fact...that you. Could, mm. Be killed."

"And?"

"What... and?" Richard ran his hand through his hair in frustration. What more reason did he need?

"You also could be killed," she pointed out. "Zat does not stop you. And do not say zat it is different."

Richard closed his mouth and swallowed his words. He stood and paced the tiny room he called home. "Do you remember. Mm, what I...said about. Not wanting, mm. You to get caught...in my world?"

"Oui," she said softly. "And do you remember what I said about it not being your world, or my world, but our world?"

Richard nodded. "Mm, yes. But I don't, mm. Want our...world to. Be one where. You mm, get shot. at."

"I do not want to be shot at. I did not particularly care for it. I do not want you to be shot at, eizer. I...I do not want to be alone, wondering if you have been hurt, if somezing has gone wrong. I do not want to panic if you are gone for an hour. I do not want you to have to do zings you do not like doing, zings zat make you sad. I...I do not want to be useless, mon amour. I do not want to be a burden to you."

"You're not," he assured her, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in his. "You, mm. Never could be. But I, mm. Don't want to. Take the chance. Of you...getting hurt. You know. It would, mm. Destroy me if...something. Happened to you."

"Je sais," she whispered. "You are right, mon amour. I should not do zis zing. I would probably be a distraction to you."

"Mm, yes. But a. delightful one." He planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "I know you're, mm. Capable of this, Simonne. But, mm. I've almost...lost you. Too many times. To risk you."

Simonne gave a small nod, conceding the argument. If working with Richard would not make him happy, then she would not do it. She would do her best to stay useful in other ways, and to not panic when he was out there, in danger, away from her. She knew she needed to stop relying on him so much, and she figured the only way to do that was to get used to him not being around. She had to do this, for him. She had to make him happy if he was happy she could be happy all she had to do was make sure he was happy...

"Hey," Richard said softly, rubbing her hands gently. "Don't mm, go away on me."

"I am sorry, mon amour. I..."

"Shh. Don't apologize, mm. We'll. Get through this. Mm, I promise."

* * *

There were two things Richard wanted to get done the next day. First, find a more suitable place to live with Simonne. She said she would be content to live under a bridge so long as Richard was with her, but he couldn't make her live in a tiny room with no private bath, no storage space, no room to move. Even sleeping on the tiny bed was almost impossible, Simonne had been pressed between him and the wall, half on top of him, and he had still been hanging half off the bed. He wanted someplace where she could hear herself think; he well recalled her wistful mention of solitude on the day they first met. He wanted someplace roomy, if only so he could watch her gracefully walk across a floor. He wanted someplace she felt safe, someplace quiet where they could try to work on her panic attacks and her circular thoughts. Someplace where he could make her happy. So they went around town and looked at apartments and houses, although nothing quite met Richard's expectations. He didn't know exactly what it was he was looking for, but he knew he would know it when he saw it.

They stopped looking around noontime, agreeing to continue the search tomorrow. So they took care of the other thing Richard wanted to tend to. Visit Tommy Darmody. He didn't particularly care to see Gillian Darmody, but he would have no choice if he wanted to see his best friend's son. He took Simonne to the dark, imposing mansion that had once belonged to Louis Kaestner, the Commodore, Jimmy's father.

"It...looms," she said upon seeing it, unable to suppress a shiver. It reminded her too much of the house Pierre Dubois had taken her to.

"I hate this. Mm, house," Richard said. "It's all. Lies, mm, and hatred. And death. If you, mm. Would like to wait. Outside, I wouldn't...blame you."

Simonne shook her head. "Non, I will go in with you. I am looking forward to meeting your _Tom-mee, _after all zat you have told me about him."

Richard gave the tiniest of smiles and led her to the door, where he knocked and then stepped back, holding Simonne's hand nervously. Gillian confused him. In some way, he felt sorry for her, given the life she had been dealt: drugged and raped at fourteen, raising a son while most girls her age were helping with little brothers; mother to the son of a man who once upon a time ran the city; a woman forced to fight to give her son the life she wanted him to have. If she had stopped at that, Richard would have admired her. But she began forcing Jimmy to lead the life she wanted him to lead: convincing him to turn on Nucky; getting him mixed up in things he was too young and inexperienced to handle; subtly but constantly trying to drive a wedge between Jimmy and Angela. Richard was convinced Gillian's manipulation played a role in Jimmy's death. Richard didn't give much thought to the way Gillian treated him. She had no reason to like him, much less act like it. He wouldn't be surprised if she hated him for not going with Jimmy that night, perhaps even blamed him for Jimmy's death. Why not? Richard certainly blamed himself for it.

The heavy door opened, and there was Gillian herself, as golden and fresh as morning sunshine. Richard would not deny that she was, if not beautiful, then certainly very pretty, with her round cheeks and the friendly smile that belied her bitch.

"Richard!" she said brightly as she stepped to him and hugged him much like a mother would hug her own son. "It's so good to have you home. Come in! You must be exhausted. When did you get in?" She ushered Richard inside, and he in turn dragged Simonne, whose hand he still held.

"Mm, yesterday," Richard said as they stepped through the door.

"Why didn't you come by then? I've been worried since you've been gone so long...you could have called, you know."

Richard stifled a sigh, saw Simonne from the corner of his eye as she tried hard not to smirk at him.

"Mm, there are. Reasons...I didn't," was all Richard thought needed to be said on the matter.

"Well, Tommy has been asking when you were coming home, non-stop. He kept asking if you were in Paris finding his mother." Gillian made a face heavily laden with disgust. "I don't know where he got the idea that his mother would be in Paris..."

_Well since you haven't seen fit to tell him she'd dead, it makes sense, _Richard couldn't help but think.  
Richard didn't understand why Gillian acted as if Angela had just up and left, couldn't fathom why the woman wouldn't tell her grandson that his mother was dead. Her theory had been 'If we don't mention her, Tommy will forget about her soon.' Jimmy had thought that was bullshit, but he didn't have the heart to say anything. How do you tell your four year old son that his mother and her lover had been brutally murdered as retaliation for a debt? Maybe Jimmy hadn't wanted the boy to think poorly of Angela. Richard didn't know. And as much as he wanted to, he knew it wasn't his place to tell Tommy the truth. That should come from his family, even though all that was left of his family was Gillian. (if there was any family on Angela's side, Richard didn't know. He often wondered about that...wondered if somewhere, a mother and father were thinking of their lovely, tender-hearted daughter, wondering how she was, what had become of her life.)

"Why don't you introduce me to your friend?" Gillian said, cutting into Richard's thoughts.

"Mm, Gillian Darmody. May I, mm. Present Simonne...Delacroix. She's, mm. My..." He looked at Simonne, couldn't help but smile, and finished "She's the, mm. Love...of my life." Simonne smiled back, her love for him shining through, before she turned to Gillian. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle _Dar-mo-dee. Ree-shard _has told me much about you."

Gillian smiled at Simonne, then turned to Richard. "Why don't you go up and say hello to Tommy. He'll be excited to know you've come home." Richard looked at Simonne questioningly, and she took a deep breath and nodded. He gave her hand a squeeze before letting go and heading for the stairs.

"Drink?" Gillian asked, gliding to the bar.

"Merci, non. I am fine."

"I must say, you certainly have him well trained already. Known him what, a month? and he's already asking your permission to leave the room."

"Zat was not permission," Simonne said warily. Richard had told her much about Gillian, and not one thing had been very flattering.

"Really? What was it then? He looked at you and waited for you to say yes. Would he have left if you said no?"

"Non, mais..." Simonne bit her tongue. Gillian didn't need to know what the truth of it was. Gillian poured herself a drink and turned to face Simonne, leaning against the bar.

"He doesn't have much, you know. Only what my son gave to him. Jimmy had a soft spot for charity cases. It was really almost like he brought some mangy stray dog home and did his best to clean him up and keep him." Simonne felt her temper flare but kept the peace for the moment. "So really, you're wasting your time with Richard. He has no money, he lives in a tiny room in some boarding house across town..."

"Oui, I know," Simonne said. "I do not understand why you zink zis matters?"

Gillian arched an eyebrow at Simonne. "Really sweetie, you don't have to pretend. I completely understand. You're doing what you need to do. But really, you can do so much better than _him. _In fact, I could easily set you up with someone. I know quite a few men who would give you whatever you want, simply because you are young, pretty and foreign."

"Only _Ree-shard _can give me zat," Simonne said. "Because ze only zing I want is him. I do not want shiny, fancy zings or big houses with endless rooms. I do not want expensive dresses and night after night of parties. I do not want to receive gifts given to make me care for someone; I want gifts given because someone cares for me. All I want is someone who is kind, and caring, someone who will be zere for me in my worst moments, someone who understands me in my deepest self. _Ree-shard _is zat someone."

Gillian's expression abruptly changed, turning proud and beaming. "I'm sorry sweetie," she said, setting her glass down and coming back to Simonne's side. "I wanted to make sure you actually cared about him." She put her arm around Simonne's shoulder and steered her towards a couch. "Richard is a very kind, gentle man," Gillian said in a tone Simonne thought was motherly. "He's the kind of man a gold-digging woman would easily be able to take advantage of. I don't want him to get hurt. He's one of the few links to my son, and in a way, I look at him as another son. I want to make sure he's happy."

"Oui," Simonne said, nodding. "Zat is all I want for him."

Gillian patted Simonne's knee and said "I think you and I are going to get along just fine."

* * *

Richard peeked through the partially open door at the dark-haired boy playing with his toys on the floor, smiling fondly and sadly at the last bit of Angela and James Darmody left on the Earth. Richard could easily see both parents in the boy; the mother's gentleness, the father's daring. Richard had always held the notion that children were a parents way of making the world a better place; you hoped that the best qualities of the parents came through and that the child's innate purity would hold throughout his or her life to make up for the mistakes of the parents. He tapped gently on the door with his knuckles. Tommy's head shot up, his large dark eyes widened with joy as a grin spread across his face. "Richard!" He shot to his feet and all but launched himself at the tall, masked man. Richard caught the boy and lifted him as Tommy wrapped his arms around his neck. "I missed you!" Tommy said into Richard's shoulder. "Gillian said you weren't coming back. She said you were gonna stay in France with the piece of pussy you went to see...Why did you go only to see part of a cat? Especially when there's so many full cats around here?" Anger and embarrassment swelled up inside of Richard; anger at Gillian for planting doubt in the child's mind about his return, as well as the fact that she would toss around such a vulgar phrases in the presence of a young child. The embarrassment came from realizing he was going to have to explain that phrase to this young child.

"The phrase, mm...your gra...mm, Gillian used is. A rather derogatory term. Mm, for a woman," Richard said as he stepped into the room and set Tommy down on the bed, kneeling in front of the boy so he he could look him in the eyes.

"What's drarogatry?"

"Derogatory. It, mm...means. Unflattering...not nice." Richard had to remind himself that Tommy wasn't even five yet.

"Oh. Gillian says dra...derg...not nice things about people all the time."

"I know," Richard replied. "You know it's not...polite. Mm, to do that?"

"I know," Tommy swore solemnly. "Mommy says so. Daddy usta say so too." It hurt Richard to hear the little boy speak of his father in the past tense but his mother, he spoke of in present tense. Tommy knew Jimmy was dead; Gillian had all but martyred her son to her grandson. But he still spoke as if Angela could come walking in the door at any moment.

"Did you bring me a present?" Tommy asked, simply at that age where people going away meant gifts when they came back.

"Maybe," Richard said. "Have you. Mm, been good?"

"Yes," Tommy said quickly. "Well...mostly. I got into the cookies once. And there was one night I had a bad dream and I went to find Gillian but I shouldn't'a been outta bed because Gillian had friends over and I'm not s'possed to be downstairs when they're here." He looked at Richard, his eyes very honest and innocent. "You can ask Gillian if I was good, if you wanna be sure."

Richard smiled and ruffled Tommy's hair. "I believe you. Mm, were good," he said. "And you were...honest with me." Tommy smiled and shifted eagerly on the bed as Richard reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. "This is. Mm, something a friend...of mine. Played with, mm. When he was your age," Richard said as he handed the gift over. "He thought. You, mm...might like it."

Tommy pulled the ribbon off and open the box, eyes wide with excitement as he saw what was carefully packed inside. "Wow," he said breathlessly as he pulled the old, slightly battered wooden soldier out of the box and looked at it reverently. It had belonged to Simonne's brother, Etienne. Etienne had given it to Richard, told him to give it to Tommy. "I hope zat zis soldier will be ze closest ze boy come to war," the Frenchman had told Richard.

"Is this really for me?" Tommy asked, the toy hugged possessively to his chest.

"Mm, yes," Richard said. "There's another...gift, but. Mm, it's still in. My trunk, and...it will. Be a while before I can, mm. Unpack."

"Why?"

"Because there, mm, isn't enough room for me. Mm, to open anything."

"Why?"

"Mm, because...my room is small."

"Why?"

"I didn't, mm...need much space."

"Why?"

_Because I was lonely, and lost. I had nothing, even though I wanted everything. I was a shadow, and shadows take up no space at all. _But of course he couldn't tell Tommy this. He was too young to understand, and besides, Richard had gotten beyond that.

"It's something, mm. You'll understand when...you get older."

"Oh." Tommy looked down at his new toy, fiddling with the small sword the soldier held, then he looked back at Richard. "Did you find Mommy?"

There was suddenly a lump in Richard's throat, and a dull ache in his chest. Why couldn't the boy know the truth?

"Mm, no. But Paris is, mm. A very large city."

"Yeah, I guess so," Tommy said, suddenly resigned. Richard place his hand over Tommy's and gave a gentle squeeze. "I did, mm. Bring a friend with me...though. Would you. Like, mm, to meet her?"

"Okay," Tommy said, sliding down off his bed. He slipped his hand into Richard's as the tall marksman stood up. They walked down the hall, and when they reached the stairway, Tommy paused and looked up at Richard, then gave a longing, side-eyed look to the bannister, then looked back up at Richard.

Richard looked back at the little boy, craned his neck as much as he could to see downstairs and make sure Gillian wasn't in sight, then nodded and picked Tommy up and helped him get a good grip.

"Wait til, mm, I'm down at the...bottom. So I can...catch you, mm, alright?"

"Okay," Tommy agreed eagerly. Richard hurried down the steps, and positioned himself at the base of the rail. Tommy had watched him over his shoulder, and when he saw Richard nod, he gave a small push and began sliding down the smooth wooded rail, a whoop of joy escaping his throat as he gained momentum. It was a short ride, but it was fun, and Richard caught him as he hit the end of the rail, and they spun in circles, Tommy's legs swinging out with the momentum, and the young boy giggled merrily before Richard set him carefully on the floor. Tommy's laughter made Richard feel light inside, a feeling that grew when Tommy took his hand and practically dragged him towards the trophy room where Gillian and Simonne were waiting.

Richard had told Simonne about Gillian, the kind of woman she was, the kind of things she was capable of. Simonne had always been a good judge of character. So when he saw the two women sitting on a couch laughing as if they were the best of friends, he was confused. Gillian reminded Richard somewhat of Simonne's step-mother, Marie, and Simonne had liked Marie as much as Richard had liked having half of his face blown off. But there she was, smiling and chatting, completely at ease.

_*But that's a good thing, isn't it? She hasn't been right since the rape, although bless her she tries to hide it from me. I waant her to be happy, and to be able to relax, and to not panic if I'm not near. So why am I ill at ease about her being so friendly with Gillian? Is it just because it's Gillian?*_

"There's my handsome men!" Gillian said cheerfully when she spotted Richard and Tommy. "It sounds like you two were having fun catching up."

"Richard spun me 'round and 'round," Tommy told his grandmother. "It was fun. Look what he brought me from Paris, Gillian!" And he held out his new possession proudly for her to inspect.

"Very nice," Gillian said, although she barely glanced at it. "Look what else Richard brought from Paris." She waved towards Simonne, and Tommy turned to meet Richard's friend.

"Bonjour, _Toh-mee_," Simonne said brightly. "It is very nice to meet you. Ree-shard has told me all about you."

"You talk funny," the little boy informed her.

"Thomas!" Gillian cried. "That's no way to speak to a guest!"

"Oh no. Do not be mad with him," Simonne said, laughter dancing in her eyes. "My English, it does sound funny, I am zinking." She turned back to Tommy and said "I do not only talk funny, I also talk a lot, so I am willing to bet you will have many chances to make fun of ze way I talk."

"But it's not nice to make fun of people. Mommy always says so."

"Zat is true," Simonne said. "Mais, zere are times zat, if you are with friends, it is alright to...to...joke with zem. For instance, mon frere, Etienne, he will always make fun of ze fact zat I can not cook." Richard snorted; Simonne had practically burnt her apartment down boiling water. Her saying 'I can't cook' was on par with him saying 'I have poor vision in my left eye'. She heard Richard's reaction and glanced at him over her shoulder quickly. "_Ree-shard_ will also make fun of me for zis. But I do not mind it. When zat is ze case, it is okay to joke with someone. Does zat make sense?"

"I don't know what 'zat' is." Simonne opened her mouth to explain, thinking her accent made it difficult for him, but the mischievous twinkle in Tommy's eyes and the way his mouth was twitching as he tried to hold in his laughter stopped her short and brought a smile to her lips. Tommy laughed for a moment then asked Simonne if she would like to see his toys. Simonne said she would, excused herself to Richard and Gillian, and followed Tommy back upstairs.

"She's delightful," Gillian told Richard when they were alone. "Absolutely adorable. She told me all about how you met; so romantic." She looked at him oddly for a moment, a small smile playing on her lips. "I'll be honest with you, I never really thought about the fact that you used to be normal." Her face quickly turned to an embarrassed look. "I'm sorry, that didn't come out the way I meant it to. What I meant was, I never gave thought to the fact that you had a life before Jimmy, or before the war. You're so...secretive. You never talk about yourself."

Richard had tried, a couple of time, to talk to Gillian about himself. For instance, when he told her he would be going out of town over Christmas, he explained to her he was going to Paris, and gave her all of the details, including how he had met Simonne, because Gillian HAD ASKED. But apparently, she hadn't paid attention. He stifled a sigh, sitting down on the couch next to her.

"Simonne was telling me you're looking for someplace to live," Gillian went on. "I offered you a place, here, after..." she could not bring herself to say 'after Jimmy died', not right now, "and you said you weren't comfortable with that. That offer still stands..."

"I'm still not, mm. Comfortable...with the thought. Of living, mm, in a whorehouse. More so, mm...now that Simonne is here."

"I understand," Gillian said. "She doesn't strike me as the kind of woman who would associate with whores."

"She wouldn't, mm. Care that...they're whores," Richard said. "I think, mm. She'd be more...uncomfortable. With the...clientele."

Gillian shrugged. "Well, if you won't stay here...I don't know if you knew, but Jimmy left you the house on the beach. Simonne would like that, I'm sure?" Richard nodded, unable to speak around the lump in his throat. That house held so many memories for him, and not many of them were pleasant. "If you do decide to move in there," Gillian rolled on, either not aware of or just ignoring the pain in Richard's expression, "Tommy could spend the night there on occasion. He doesn't need to be here every night. Sometimes I don't think it's fair that he has to confine himself upstairs when the girls come out..."

_Well if you weren't running a whorehouse out of your home, your grandson wouldn't have to stay upstairs for hours on end. _It amazed Richard that Gillian could be so oblivious to such things.

"...and he keeps asking when he can go back home, anyway. If you move in, why...think of all the time you can spend with him? And you and Simonne can get practice at being parents!It would be a good solution to everyone's problem!"

"I. Mm, don't...know," Richard started. Angela died in that house. He had found her body, laying across her lover. How could he spend any time in that house?

"Give it some thought," Gillian leaned close, put her hand on his thigh, making him extremely uncomfortable. "Jimmy bought that house, planning on having a happy life with Tommy. Jimmy couldn't do it, but you can."

Richard looked at her slender hand resting just above his knee, his face growing hot and his pulse skipping erratically. Unable to bear her touch, he quickly stood up and moved behind the couch.

"I'm going. Mm, to get Simonne. And...we're. Mm," he stammered as he backed towards the doorway. "Going, mm...to. Leave for. The night." Gillian watched him retreat, a slightly amused look on her face. It was only when she turned her gaze away that Richard was able to turn and all but flee to the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Finally got this together, neatened and up. Thanks for your patience...hope you find it worth the wait. **

**Much to my surprise, I learned from the first episode of S3 that my story is quite similar in part to what Terence Winter has planned, so...this is now obviously AU.**

**Pardon the typos, I'm sure there are plenty. **

Richard watched Simonne carefully as she walked through the house. He could tell she was quite charmed by it, although she didn't want to be. He hadn't told her why they were there, knowing if he had she wouldn't have stepped through the front door. He wanted to gauge her reaction to the house before he proposed living there. He knew the objections she would raise, and he had arguments lined up for each of them. He knew what her main argument would be: how could he even think of living in this house? He had wondered the same thing himself as he gave thought to it all last night, remembering the awkward moments and yes...finding Angela's body. But the more he thought on it, the more he realized it wouldn't be a problem to live there. Yes, there were unpleasant memories for him here, but there were warm, pleasant ones as well; Jimmy and Angela had always made him feel welcome there, offering him a place of comfort and companionship.

Angela would always set a plate of food before him, although he never ate any of it in front of her or Jimmy; they both understood why, and told him he needn't be afraid or ashamed to eat in front of them, but he could never bring himself to do it. But that plate of food had always been there, just in case some day, he could.

And how many hours had he spent with Jimmy; either in the sun room, or out on the patio, talking? Or even just sitting in companionable silence? Jimmy had been a friend and a brother, and had always made it clear to Richard that there would always be a place for him here, a place where he wasn't alone.

Simonne stopped in the doorway to the master bedroom, one hand on the door frame. Her eyes took in the room, and after a few moments, she looked over her shoulder at him, and he could see tears forming in her eyes.

"How could you even zink to live in zis house?" she asked in a quiet voice, guessing the reason for the visit despite his silence. "How could you not...be haunted? Is zis not where she died?"

Richard nodded, and while he felt the loss it wasn't the sharp stab it had been right after he had found Angela.

"Zen...why?"

"That door...was always. Mm, open to me. Never...once. Was I turned away. Jimmy would...invite me over. After we were...out. Mm, and Angela would. Always leave a blanket. On the davenport. Mm, if it was late. They...welcomed me. With open...arms."

Richard closed the distance between them, a look on his face that Simonne had seen before; it was that beautiful look of wonder she so loved. "I think Jimmy. Knew he wouldn't. Come back. But he told me. It was time for me...to come home. I asked him...how. He said he didn't know...but he. Made me promise I would try." A pause as that last conversation played through his mind, and an obvious truth made itself known to him. "I think. Mm... I think he meant. Here." He held her eye, hoping she understood. He knew she was searching his eye for any sign that he was withholding something, some discomfort or fear, some kernel of truth. On the voyage over (after Richard had gotten past the sea sickness) they had spent many hours talking about what their life together would entail. Both had agreed that honesty between them was a must; there could be no secrets. So Richard added "Gillian mentioned, mm. That Tommy would...like to visit and that...she thought it...would be...good for us."

Simonne knew Richard would go to any length to make sure Tommy was happy and taken care of, and she wondered how much of that was playing into his desire to live in this house. But, having met the little boy and been thoroughly charmed by his sweetness and innocence, she felt the same way. That house that Gillian lived in was not the kind of house a child should grow up in. It was a house that spoke of power and influence, not love. It was much like the house she had grown up in in that regard.

But this house... It was cozy and inviting, the kind of house that encouraged closeness and togetherness. Simonne had never thought of houses as having personalities, at least not outside of what the inhabitants gave it, but this beach house was different. It was like it was just waiting for happiness, laughter and love to fill it. Simonne closed her eyes for a moment and imagined what it could be like to live here; the images were vivid and easy in coming. She saw herself and Richard having peaceful breakfasts and taking walks along the beach and spending quiet evenings snuggled together in the living room. She did not think anything of the fact that Tommy was also part of her imaginings; if ever there was a child who needed something resembling normal family life it was Tommy.

She opened her eyes and looked at Richard. Her eyebrows were knitted in slight consternation.

"I like zis house, oui, et je pense que nous pourrions être très heureux ici mais...

"Please...Finish that thought. In English," he asked with a small smile. He loved the way she lapsed into French, but he didn't want to miss something important due to his lack of understanding her. And he could tell by the look on her face that it was important.

"_Ree-shard, _I zink zat we could be very happy here, mais..._Toh-mee..._" She had to grope for the words she needed, find the right way to explain her concerns. It was difficult, because she didn't have as much insight on the situation as Richard, but she really needed to express her reservations. "It is _Zhillian's _zinking zat _Toh-mee _should not know zat his mother is dead. Yet, if we are living in ze house, will he not figure zat...somezing is not right? Will he not wonder why we are moving in, if she could be coming back at any time? He seems to be a bright boy...I do not zink he he will fooled for long."

*****...*****...****...****...*****...*****

But when they stopped by later that afternoon to talk to Tommy about it, he quite surprised them both.

"Gillian said that Daddy wanted you to have the house because he wanted you to have someplace nice to live because you were such a good friend and you spent so much time there and you could maybe make a life for yourself..." Here, the little boy's eyebrows drew together in puzzlement because he didn't understand what that actually meant but he supposed, really, it didn't matter, and he went on with his conversation. "Gillian said that you were like Daddy's brother and because of that Daddy was giving you the house because you deserved it more than Mommy because you would help take care of me and you won't run off and that you would probably like it if I called you Uncle Richard."

"I would. Like it very much," Richard said. In his voice, Simonne heard that same not of awe and wonder she had first heard when she had found him outside of the Opera House all those years ago, and again on that night that they had met again just last year, when he had asked her why she had chosen him as her first lover. It was a tone that warmed her heart and reminded her why she loved him; he was a man who cherished the gifts that life gave to him, he would take none of them for granted, and he would protect them with everything he had.

Tommy grinned at Richard and Richard smiled back, and in that moment a bond was formed. It was just the beginning but Simonne knew it was something they both needed; Tommy needed a father figure, Richard needed the connection to his departed friends. They both needed something that seemed normal, after so many months of pain and confusion. She liked seeing the sweet looks of joy on there faces, the pure happiness of the moment.

"Can I come visit sometimes?" Tommy asked. "I miss my old room and playing in the sand and the sound my trucks made on the living room floor and I bet James wants to see the house too."

"James?" Richard repeated, a small note of panic in his voice. Tommy knew his father was dead, so why mention him?

But he was put at ease when Tommy held up the toy soldier Richard had brought him, showing Richard the back of the left left, where JAMES had been written in blocky childish handwriting.

"Oh. I...see. Yes. Mm, you can come over whenever. Your...Gillian...says it's okay..."

"And as long as I've been a good boy," Tommy finished.

"Are you ever not a good boy?" Simonne asked, curious to know how Tommy would reply. Richard had written to her about the way Tommy had acted out right after jimmy's death, which was understandable, given that his mother had 'disappeared' a few month before.

"Not always," he admitted shyly. "But sometimes it's not fun to be good." He glanced at Richard and a guilty look passed across his face before he glanced down at his hands. "But I'm gonna try to be as a good a boy as I can 'cause when I'm bad it makes things very hard on Gillian and maybe if I had been a good boy Mommy wouldn't have gone away."

"Who told you. Your mother went...away. Mm, because you...were bad?"

"Gillian said. She said if Mommy had been a better mommy she would have known how to deal with the problems that little boys caused but if I hadn't caused so many problems Mommy wouldn't have run away and I'd know how to be a good boy. But she said I'm a good boy when Richard is around," he told Simonne. "And she was mad that he left to see you and she said a dreg...derg...Uncle Richard? What was that word you used for a not nice thing to say about someone?"

"Derogatory."

"Gillian said a der-og-a-tory..."he looked quite pleased with himself for getting such a big word out. "thing about you."

"What did she say?" Simonne asked curiously

"She called you a piece..."

"Don't...repeat it," Richard said sternly to Tommy before he leaned towards Simonne and told her the phrase Gillian had used.

"She said zat? To a child?" Simonne said, shocked and appalled. When she began a vindictive tirade entirely in French, Richard thought that perhaps now she would see the truth of the woman Gillian was. And when she set her purse down on the chair, stood up and said through clenched teeth "Excuse-moi. Zere is somezing I just now zought to ask Zhillian."

"Simonne," Richard called as she reached for the doorknob. She turned, her eyes blazing with anger. "Do I need...to warn you. To keep, mm. Your tongue in. your mouth?" That wasn't his way of saying "Don't say something you might regret."

"I am leaving my zings," she said, nodding to her purse. "You will...?" Richard nodded when she trailed off. "Bon. I will return." She opened the door and strode out, leaving Richard the task of trying to straighten things out with Tommy. It was probably for the best, he thought, that Simonne was going downstairs to talk to Gillian; Richard would not have left his gun behind.

He looked at Tommy, who was staring at the empty door with a confused look.

"What was Simonne saying? She talked funnier than normal."

"I...don't know," Richard admitted, wondering if he was ever going to follow through with that 'I've really got to learn French' thought he'd frequently had. But that wasn't important right now, and he knew he was just stalling.

"Tommy, if I...tell you something. Will you. Promise not to...mm, tell Gillian I. Told you?"

"A secret?" Tommy asked excitedly. He liked secrets; secrets were a very grown up thing, and if Uncle Richard was going to tell him a secret, it must be important. "I promise I won't tell Gillian."

"Your mother. Didn't leave...because of you. She had to...go away. Because of something. Mm, your father did. And..."

"But Gillian said Daddy was a good man?"

"He was. But sometimes...love blinds us. To a person's faults. Mm, and your father did. Have faults."

"But why did Mommy have to go away if it was something Daddy did?" Richard closed his eye, hoping that would help hold in the truth, because he was very close to telling Tommy the whole story. But he didn't. He couldn't risk tearing the little boy's world apart any further than it already was. In truth, he wasn't brave enough to do it; he couldn't stand to see the look that would be in Tommy's eyes when he finally learned the truth.

"I wish...I could give you that answer, mm." he finally said. "I can only tell you. That if she had the choice. She would...have stayed with you."

"She didn't even say good-bye."

"I know."

"Why couldn't she take me with her? Gillian said it was 'cause she wanted Daddy to raise me, daddy and Gillian, but why couldn't I go with her?"

"I don't. Know," Richard replied softly. He could feel his lip quivering, and he tried to still it, hoping Tommy would only think it one of his odd facial ticks if he noticed it. "All I know is. She loves you...where ever she is. And, mm...she wants you to be happy. And cared for."

"Oh."

Tommy contemplated the truck right in front of him for a long moment, and Richard sat silently, wondering if this was the precursor to a tantrum. Tommy had thrown quite a few doozies since Angela's 'disappearance', especially after Jimmy's murder. Richard didn't really blame the boy for them; after all, his entire world had been completely rearranged in a few short months and it couldn't be easy for such a young child to express the hurt and anger he was feeling, especially when all the adults around him were too wrapped in their own misery to notice him.

Richard wasn't entirely sure when he realized Tommy needed attention; but one day he caught the little boy in his arms, picked him up, and hugged him and cried. Tommy squirmed for a minute then he too started crying, asking when his mother was coming back and wondering if she even knew that Jimmy was dead. Richard couldn't answer him; he could only hold Tommy as the boy finally let his grief and worry come out. Tommy felt better afterwards, an adult had FINALLY noticed him, had taken the time to let him vent his pain, and more importantly, that adult did not tell him to just get over it and get on with life. Richard understood how much Tommy missed his mother; Gillian did not. She took every opportunity to tell Tommy that Angela had been worthless and a horrible mother and how Angela had come between Gillian and Jimmy and then Gillian would tell Tommy how no one would come between the two of them. Tommy didn't understand that, but he didn't understand a lot of the things adults did or said. But Richard actually listened to him, talked to him not at him. Richard couldn't always find words to make Tommy feel better, and he certainly could not fix everything that Tommy wanted put back to right, but Richard just taking the time to pay attention and listen had helped the little boy a great deal. Tommy was afraid that Richard would go away, too. Richard promised him he wouldn't, but he did, for a while. Richard had explained that he had a special friend he wanted to go visit for Christmas, but she lived in Paris and Richard would be gone for three weeks and one day but he promised he would return soon. Tommy was afraid at first that Richard wouldn't return, but then he remembered that once, not too long ago, his mother had wanted to run away to Paris, so Tommy wondered if maybe Richard was going to look for her. That thought got Tommy through a very unhappy Christmas and New Year's, and he counted the days waiting for Richard to come back. And when the three weeks and one day passed and Richard didn't come back, he waited some more, convinced that it wad just taking longer than expected to find Angela. Gillian had told Tommy one day in the middle of January that Richard wouldn't ever come back, and it was just the two of them and that was how it should be. But Tommy didn't give up hope. Richard had promised to come back and Tommy believed Richard would keep that promise.

And Richard hadn't let Tommy down in that regard. True, he hadn't come back with Angela like Tommy had secretly hoped but if Paris was really that big it would be really hard to find one person.

And even though she wasn't his mother Tommy was glad Richard had brought Simonne back. Even if she did talk funny.

"I like Simonne" Tommy informed Richard. "She's pretty enough to be one of daddy's kissing friends but nice enough to be one of mommy's."

With the twitch of his cheek that passed for his brief smile, Richard said "I'm sure...Simonne will. Mm...appreciate the compliment."

"Simonne said you saved her life a bunch of times and that she was very grateful to know you but she didn't say very she said 'tray' which she said means very in French but I don't get why she didn't just say very then if that's what she meant. She does talk funny and she wasn't kidding when she said she talked a lot and I noticed she talks about one thing then something else right after it. How come you never told me you have a sister?  
I always wanted a brother but a sister would have been okay I guess even if she wouldn't have been as much fun as a brother but Mommy and Daddy never got me one but Simonne said she had a brother and that he was in the army like you and Daddy but it was the French army not the 'Merica army. Do all French people talk as funny as Simonne?"

Before Richard could respond, Tommy barreled on to something else that Simonne had mentioned, which led to him going off on a totally unrelated discussion about how he wished someone could take him camping.

"When the. Mm...weather warms. Up, maybe Gillian will. Let me...take you."

"Really?! You would take me?" Tommy was nearly vibrating with excitement. "The last time Daddy took me camping he seemed a little sad and when I asked him he said he wasn't really sad but being in the woods reminded him of being in the army and that wasn't something he liked to think about." Tommy paused and looked at Richard curiously. "Won't camping make you think of the army? Will it make you sad? Cause if it makes you sad we don't have to." Richard could hear the unspoken "even though I really want to" in Tommy's tone.

"I always. Liked camping," Richard said. "I grew up. Mm, on a farm and... my dad. Used to...take me. Camping and hunting sometimes. Mm, when I was. In the army. I spent...a lot of time. Walking through...the woods, hiding in trees or...ravines."

"What's a ravine?"

"It's...a big, mm. Natural ditch, basically."

"Oh. How come you were in the woods and ravines? Were you hiding from someone?"

"Sometimes," Richard said, explaining to Tommy in the most basic way what his job in the army had been. Which led to Tommy asking Richard about Simonne's brother and what he had done in the war, and did Simonne's brother really only have one leg and did he really cook (because according to Tommy cooking was 'women's work' which led Richard to explain that there was nothing wrong with a man cooking, using himself as an example and also that not all women could cook so sometimes it was a good thing that some men did cook, and yes Etienne did indeed cook and he was quite good at it.)

And they spent a good hour after that just talking about whatever crossed Tommy's mind. Richard hadn't realized how long they'd been talking until he saw Simonne standing in the doorway smiling.

"You have had a nice talk?" she asked brightly.

"We have," Richard replied, trying to gauge by her demeanor how her conversation with Gillian had gone. If it had gone bad Simonne gave no sign, she just smiled fondly at them.

"Did you. Mm...get. everything straightened out...?"

"Oui," she said cheerfully enough but her eyes weren't as merry as they should have been and Richard wondered what had been said.


	4. Chapter 4

The beach house needed a good airing and a thorough cleaning, and Simonne set to it with a passion. Richard watched as she swarmed over the house with her mop and her rags. He had tried to help, but whenever Simonne would see him cleaning she would kindly but firmly tell him she had it under control and that he should sit down and relax. He tried to argue that he couldn't just sit around while she worked so hard, but she would point at a chair, tell him to put his 'glorious derrière ' in it, then go back to cleaning. Richard didn't want to start an argument, not over something so trivial,so he finally gave in and sat down and tried very hard to just sit there. He managed to last five minutes before he stood up again and told Simonne he was going to dust the top of the curtain rods.

"I will get to zose in a moment, mon amour," she told him as she scrubbed a baseboard in the hallway. "Please just relax."

"But. I can't, " he said with as much exasperation as his voice could display. "I can't just. Sit still while...you, mm. All but slave over. Scrubbing the...walls. That isn't how. I was raised and I. Mm, am not going to...start our life together. With you thinking...that you. Mm, have to wait on me. Like some maid."

"I know I do not have to. But what if I want to?" She stood and came to him, resting her hands on his chest and looking up at him sweetly. "I zink it is beyond time zat someone spoil you un peu."

"You spoil me. Every day by. Mm, being in my life," he said, although he realized it didn't quite sound right when it came out of his mouth.

"If you consider zat being spoiled, zen you definitely need more spoiling. Now sit and I will finish cleaning."

"I'm dusting. Mm, the curtain rods," he said. "Nothing you...say will change my. Mind."

"Oh, I will say nozing," Simonne replied. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes that Richard was excited to see. He waited; he knew she was about to tickle him, and he braced himself for it, hoping to withstand it for a few minutes at least. But as soon as her fingers began working that sensitive spot just under his ribs, his resolve was gone and his laughter broke loose. He let her have her tickling way with him for a few moments before he retaliated, his fingers finding her ribs and tickling back. She gave a startled shriek that dissolved into laughter as they tried to out tickle one another. It soon turned into a bit of an evasion dance as Simonne tried to stay put of his reach while still staying close enough to tickle him. She ducked behind him suddenly and tickled his armpits, quickly backing away when he turned to face her.

"Oh...you're. Mm, in for it...now," he playfully growled, lunging towards her. He had planned on tickling her neck with one hands and her ribs with the other; that always made her laugh and promise to stop tickling him. But as he lunged, Simonne shrieked and drew back, pressing herself against the wall. Her eyes were wide with fright and all the color had drained from her face. It took Richard a second to realize she wasn't playing, that she was truly frightened. He lowered his hands and stepped back, softly calling her name and trying to draw her out of her fear.

_"You're in for it now," he growled angrily just before he lunged. Simonne tried to evade him but he was faster and it didn't take him but a moment to catch her by her hair and throw her to the ground. Her breath was knocked out of her and her vision was clouded with stars as she felt his weight pressing down on her. "You fucking bitch! Think it's cute to scratch?" His breath was hot against her ear as he forced himself inside of her. She tried to fight even though she knew it was futile; her strength was nearly gone and she knew that resistance would only make it worse...obviously scratching this one's face had been a stupid idea but the instinct to survive, to not just give in, was too strong. It was pointless but she fought until she couldn't fight any more._

"Simonne?" Richard repeated softly. What had he done to her?

Simonne finally heard Richard and pulled herself out of the flashback with a shudder. When she saw the worry in his eye, the way it had deepened the lines on his face, she mentally berated herself for letting him see that episode. If he was worried then he wasn't happy and if he wasn't happy, Simonne was doing something wrong.

"I am sorry, mon amour," she said, stepping close to him and stroking his cheek, as if she could wipe away the worry. "I would you had not seen zat."

"Was it. Something I...said? Or, mm...because I lunged...? Did...something. like that. Happen?"

"I do not want to talk about it," Simonne said firmly. "It is not somezing you did. It is...just me." She shrugged and tried to change the subject, but Richard spoke just as she opened her mouth.

"Simonne. I don't want. To do or say...anything. that reminds you..."

"Zen please do not zink of it, or worry about it. I will be fine." She smiled sweetly at him and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

"But..."

"No 'buts'," she said. "I will be fine. It was just a moment where my zoughts got away from me. Zat does not happen often any more."

It happened more often than Richard knew; Simonne had just gotten good at hiding those moment from him. She had to work very hard to seem as much like herself as she could, because that was the woman Richard had fallen in love with, not a woman who panicked if left alone for too long or who was prone to vivid flashbacks that could leave her collapsed on the floor trembling or gasping for breath. She didn't want to be that woman and for Richard's sake she would not be that woman. She would have to work harder on catching those flashbacks and run-away thoughts before they could break loose. Especially in situations like this. She knew Richard would never hurt her, that if she was safe with anyone it was him. He was still looking at her with concern, trying to find the right words to get her to tell him what exactly had happened. But she didn't want to talk about it; honestly she wanted to forget it had ever happened. Richard questioning her wouldn't help that so she was going to have to distract him quickly.

"I have an idea," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I am hungry. Will you go to ze market?"

"What...will you do?"

"I will stay and clean," she informed him. "I know you are zinking zat I will not wish to be alone, mais I will have to be, when you are working, oui? I zink zat...it would be better if I am used to ze idea of it. I...I can be alone for a little while now, when I know where you will be et how long you will be gone. And if we do zis enough, zen it perhaps will no be so bad zose times when I do not know where you are or when you will come home. I know I will still worry for you, mais...zat is to be expected, et it is better to be just worried, zan worried et panicked. Does zis seem sensible?"

Richard thought it was. He knew he would have to leave her alone from time to time, and it was a problem he'd been dreading coming to. But leave it to Simonne to come up with a practical idea. He kissed her lips and her forehead, told her he would be gone no more than forty five minutes, and hurried on his way.

Simonne leaned against the door for a moment and tried to keep that calm she had displayed for Richard. She realized this wasn't going to be as easy as she thought at first, but she was not going to just let it overwhelm her and take her down. She took a deep breath and pushed away from the door. She would keep herself busy with cleaning, keep her mind focused on that. So when Richard got home, he found her on a chair cleaning the curtain rods and the tops of the windows. He set the groceries on the table and cleared his throat. When Simonne turned to face him he said "You only. Wanted me gone so...you could, mm. Get at those windows."

She laughed and jumped from the chair, landing lightly on her feet and hurrying over to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and said "Oui, mon amour. Zat is ze only reason I sent you out." He looked at her closely and asked how she was. "I am fine. It was not so bad. I missed you, of course, mais I did not panic."

"Good."

Not many people would have heard the tenderness in that one low, gruff word. Most would only hear a terse, near grumble, a syllable devoid of emotion. But Simonne could hear love, pride and hope in those for letters and she felt a little lighter inside know that Richard was happy.

***...***...***...***...***...***

After lunch, Simonne resumed cleaning the curtain rods. Richard waited until she was deep into it before he slipped upstairs and started cleaning up there. He was finishing with the hallway when Simonne walked past the stairs, glanced up and spotted him on his hands and knees scrubbing the floor.

"Too late...to argue," he told her when he spotted her out of the corner of his eye. He continued to scrub as he spoke. "I've already finished. Mm. Up here and when I finish the floor...I will give you. A hand down stairs."

"Mais mon amour..."

"No arguing," he repeated when Simonne tried. "Why do you. Insist on being the. One to...do all the. Cleaning? Do you. Mm, doubt my cleaning skills?"

"Non, it is not zat," she said with a shake of her head.

"Then why?" Richard tossed his rag into the bucket and came down the stairs, sitting down on the third from the bottom. He sat close to the rail, giving Simonne enough room to sit beside him, which she did after a moment. She looked at her hands, then at him for a brief second before she looked back at her hands and admitted "Because I do not know what else it is I should be doing. Ze woman of ze house, she is ze one who cooks and cleans and irons and...and...I do not know." She looked at him, worry and confusion deep in her eyes. "I do not know what I am supposed to do, Ree-shard. I have read about happy families and it seems zat ze very happy ones have very...domestic...women."

Richard snorted and shook his head. "And you. Questioned why I stopped reading...after the war." He took a breath and thought carefully about how to say what he wanted to say. "Fiction is just...fiction. It's...someone's idealized version. Of what they. Mm...want to happen. That's why people enjoy reading it. It will take. A small thing we...can all relate to and...wrap it in. A pretty package that we all want. But reality is...usually not as pretty, is it? "

"Non."

"You had a rather...horrible family." Simonne nodded; her father had hated her because her mother died giving birth to her, her brother had hated her until she was five or so for the same reason (but at least came to his senses), and her step-mother had plotted to kill them all. "I think," Richard went on, "that the vision of these perfect...families you read about. Appealed to you. Mm, because they were so...traditional."

"Was it like zat for you, growing up? Traditional?"

"It was...practical. I guess it was. Typical for where we live."

"Mon pere et Marie...zey were somewhat typical for our circle. Not ze plotting,non, mais ze marrying for money. No one married for love; it was all for practicality or business."

"Your father. loved your mother."

"Oui," Simonne said softly. "And I took zat from him."

"No." Richard took Simonne's hands in his and gently squeezed them. "Your father was. too busy thinking...about what. He lost to see. What he had been given."

"He would still have her if I had never been born. "

"But I. Wouldn't ...have you. And I'm not so stupid that. I don't know the. Mm, greatest gift. of my life when I see it."

"You are calling mon pere stupid? "

"Mm, yes." He gave a smile and was graced with a small one in return. He figured now would be a good time for a confession; maybe it would ease her mind some. "I used to. Mm, watch the world go by and I...would try to imagine myself. In other people's lives. I would be the husband. Who brought flowers to his wife or...the father who. Took his kids for ice cream or...the guy on his way to his perfectly...ordinary job, mm. I would spend my nights...sitting in my room. looking at magazines, at the. Mm, happy. perfect couples and I'd pretend they were...my family and my friends and I'd...image things we would. Do together, all the...fun..." He trailed off and remembered sitting at his desk and going through his scrapbook of false memories and impossible dreams, looking at the carefully placed cuttings and thinking of the scenario he had for each one; a family cook out, dancing the night away at a club with a beautiful actress, he himself being nothing less than the next Valentino. Going to baseball games with his son, or 'Look honey, here's a picture of the Smiths from our weekend at the lake. Wasn't it hilarious when Bob fell off the boat?'

"No matter what, mm. I imagined or who I imagined...I was with. Nothing ever. Felt right to me. I, mm eventually figured out...it was because I didn't. Know what normal people did. how they...acted. What do. They talk about? Most of my life, mm. Most of my conversations have been about. The farm the. War or killing someone. There are times mm. When I feel like. That's all I know...or am...or can do." He looked at their entwined hands, ran his thumb over one of her fingers, lost in thought for a moment as a small fragment of something he and Emma had discussed flitted through his mind. It wasn't important at the moment so he pushed it aside and looked at Simonne's face, amazed still that she had ever taken the time to notice him, and he said "But when I would. lie awake..at night and think of you. The...things I would imagine us doing. Mm ...they felt right. They felt...possible. I stopped looking at. Those pictures when we started writing. Instead I would sit...with your letter in my hand and. I would imagine doing things with you. Like picnics and laying. In front of a. fire on a rainy night...talking about anything and everything or walking along. The beach in the moonlight. When, mm. I would imagine life..with the pictures I was never, mm...able to see myself as I am...only as I used. to be. Even, mm in my own mind...people wouldn't accept what I was." He paused to work moisture into his mouth; this was possibly the longest in his life he had ever talked uninterrupted, it was certainly the longest since his injury. But that was what Simonne did for him, she had brought him out of himself and she kept him from wanting to fall back into that darkness that had consumed him for so long. When his mouth was as moist as it would get, he went on. "When I would...imagine us, I was never afraid of. Mm, how I look. Because you don't look at me. like I'm different." He paused once more, this time with a rueful chuckle. "I, mm...seem to have. Gone off track from what. I was originally saying. " But that was something Simonne could make him do without even trying, and that was part of the reason he loved her. "The point. I wanted to make was. Mm ...I don't think we. Should try to make our life together...like everyone else's. We're not like them. And honestly? I don't ...want to be like them. I...thought I did. But the past. Few months made me realize. Mm, I like. Who I am with you. So much more...than who I am. With them."

"Who are you, when you are with zem?" Simonne asked quietly. Richard had quite caught her up with his words, given her a lot to think about. He had given her more insight to what his life had been like, a glimpse of how alienated he had felt, even from himself at times, and that brought some thoughts to her mind as well, about how she viewed herself since the rape. But those thoughts she would dwell on later, when she was alone.

"I'm the war veteran, the killer. Mm, the quiet. Shadow. I'm cold and...feared. The man...not to stare at, no matter how...curious you are."

"And when you are with me?"

"I'm Richard ...Harrow. And...the luckiest man. In the world."

Simonne gave a shy smile; he'd noticed that she rarely displayed that mock self importance anymore and he realized he missed it. But he understood she wasn't the same woman she had been, no matter how hard she tried to be. He just didn't know if she understood it.

But it was late; while he had been talking the sun had set and they were sitting in the dark. With all of the windows open to air out the house it had grown quite cold as well; they were both shivering slightly although they hadn't noticed, as wrapped up in conversation as they had been.

"Let's go back. Mm...to the room," Richard said finally. "We'll figure. This out as. We go along, mm."

Simonne nodded and squeezed his hands briefly before she stood and went about closing up the house for the night.

***...***...***...***...***

The next morning they went back to the beach house. There wasn't much deep cleaning left, but there was a decided lack of furniture and decor. After Angela had died, Jimmy had destroyed most of her belongings and some of the things that had reminded him of her. And after Jimmy had died, Gillian had gone through and taken things that she thought Tommy might want. Someone had broken into the house about three weeks after Jimmy's death, just some drunk kids who had smashed furniture and written on the walls; Richard had spent time cleaning that up after Gillian had told him.

"I need. Mm, to run an errand," he told Simonne as she went from room to room reopening the windows. "Do you want. to come or would you rather..."

"I will stay, mon amour," she said. "How long will you be, do you zink?"

"It'll be...about an hour," he replied. "Maybe an hour and. A half. Mm, I can...stop back in between..."

"You do not need to do zat. You probably should not do zat," she amended. "I can not get used to you being away if you are here. I will finish cleaning, zen I will begin a list of ze zings we will need." She nodded, whether to assure herself or Richard she wasn't certain.

"We shouldn't...rush things," he said.

"Ah, but we do not know when you will have to go out for work, and I do not zink you running errands while I am home cleaning is rushing. I will be fine. Go do what you must do," she said with a kiss. "I will be here when you get back."

"I think I know something. You haven't seen yet." He took her hand and led her towards the bedroom. "I was going to show you this. The other day but forgot." Simonne arched her eyebrow but said nothing; she was quite curious.

What Richard showed her was one of the largest bathtubs she had ever seen in her life. She actually let out a small squeal of delight when she saw it.

"Jimmy said he had this. Mm specially installed because...soaking his leg. Sometimes eased the ache." Simonne nodded; easing stiff muscles in hot water after a rigorous practice had been a common thing for her.

"If you, mm. Said no to living here. I was going to show you this. As a bribe."

"And it would have worked," Simonne admitted. "I do not have to argue about cleaning in here?"

"No," Richard chuckled. "I left this for you."

"Tres bien! Now, go take care of your errands. I will be here when you return."

She kissed him goodbye at the door, grabbed the cleaning supplies, then went back to the bathroom. but as she stepped to the door her steps faltered and she found herself staring first at the wall, then the floor. There was no sign of what had happened; Richard had cleaned it thoroughly. Simonne sank to her knees there where Angela Darmody and a woman named Louise had been murdered. She ran her hands over the wall and the floor, somehow amazed that they didn't feel anything other than ordinary. She knelt there for a very long time, trying to comprehend such a senseless deed at first, then wondering about the two women who had died here.

"S'il vous plait," she said softly, placing her hands on the floor where once a pool of blood had been, "S'il vous plait Angela...if you can. If you cared anyzing for Ree-shard, please do not haunt him here. He does zis for your son et for ze love he bears for you et Zhimmy et...because he loves me. You helped make zat possible, for him. He told you zat he lost whatever he zought love was, mais...it was your kindness zat helped him to see zat people will see beyond ze mask if he will let zem know him. Et, you were ze first person he took his mask off for. Ozers, zey saw him sans mask, oui, mais he trusted you enough to bare his soul et his face...I do not zink he would have been able to show me if he had not shown you. Merci for zat. Merci for being kind to him and offering him a caring place to be. It meant a lot to him." She looked upwards, and her voice became very quiet and there was a tone of uncertainty in it that had only arisen in the past few months. "S'il vous plait...if you are able...give me ze strength to make him happy." It was the closest Simonne had come to praying in a very long time; she'd lost a great amount of her faith when she discovered people like Etienne were condemned to Hell simply for loving someone of the same gender. But something about this spot, where two women she would never know were murdered because of arrogance, mistakes, and money had prompted her to wonder what became of a person after death. She didn't know, but she wanted it known that if divine intervention were possible, she would be grateful for any help.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Short filler. thanks for reading. ^_^**

Simonne was up to her earlobes in warm water and soap bubbles. She sank a little lower into the water and couldn't help but think that Jimmy Darmody had made some very stupid decisions in his short life but this bathtub was not one of them. She sighed contentedly and drain plug with her toes. She could have stayed in the tub much longer, but she had a plan for the evening that being wrinkly from the water didn't fit into. She shuttered as the receding water tickled her skin, then stood up, turned on the tap and filled a small cup to rinse off the soap from her body, then stepped from the tub and dried herself with a towel.

Once she was dry, she let the towel fall to the floor and she looked at herself in the mirror. She found it odd that she didn't look much different, because deep inside she felt like a completely different woman. She had scars now, but most could be easily explained. The one that would be hard to downplay (not that many would ever see it) was the one on her chest, right between her breasts. She ran her fingers over it; it was a perfect circle, a burn from the dog tag Richard had given her in love and that her attackers had used against her in hate. Little did they know it would be the one thing from that night that she would look on with pride. 'Like to keep him close to your heart?' They had taunted as they held the tag in the flame. 'Let's see if we can keep him there' they said. Well, they had. Not just the scar; it had strengthened the bond between Simonne and Richard, made them admit their love for one another, and saved Simonne the awkward task of trying to figure a delicate way of asking Richard if she could move in with him.

She looked at herself a moment more before she turned to the sink and finished getting ready. She slipped Richard's dog tag over her head and settled it properly, then she applied a little perfume and finally she slipped her robe on. She cracked the bathroom door just a bit, shuddering when the cooler air from the bedroom swirled around her ankles. Now all she had to do was wait for Richard to get to the specific point in his very meticulous getting read for bed routine that she needed.

***...***...***...***...***

Richard finished a letter to Emma (he hoped that she would smile when she saw the old nicknames) and set the envelope on the table so he would remember to post it in the morning. Then he went through the house and turned off the lights (he would have to talk to Simonne about the fact that lights didn't need to be on if no one was in the room, but not tonight) then headed to the bedroom. The bathroom door was slightly open and he could see Simonne silhouetted against the frosted glass. He walked to the closet and began undressing. He always undressed top to bottom and got redressed in reverse. He was down to his underwear when he heard Simonne tentatively say "Mon amour?" from behind him. He spun and tried to cover his near nakedness with his pants; silly he knew but still he did it none the less. He knew he was bright red, Simonne confirmed it when she said "S'il vous plait, non...do not be shy with me. Not...not right now...I.." She took a step closer to him, and Richard could tell she was nervous. He relaxed his posture as much as he could as she took another tentative step towards him. "I...We talked...about our world, oui? Et how zere would be no scars or sad stories or traumas, et I was zinking," she looked down at her hands which were nervously fiddling with the belt of her robe. She didn't, or maybe she couldn't, meet Richard's eye as she continued. "I was zinking zat, puet etre, zat zis would be a good time et place to start zat world. Et zat...I...I said some time ago zat I was not comfortable being naked in front of you...mais I zink zat...What I mean is zat...I" Richard watched her as she took a deep breath and undid the knot of the belt then quickly shrugged the robe from her shoulders. Everything stood still for him for a moment, as she stood before him just as beautiful as ever but not the same as she had ever been. He muttered something, he didn't know what but he was so awed not only by the sight of her but with her bravery; he wondered if her showing herself to him was similar to the first time he had taken hide mask off for her: the feeling of being totally exposed, the nervous fear deep inside that rejection would soon follow.

Whatever he had muttered brought a burst of nervous laughter from Simonne; he quickly pulled his eye from her body and up to her face. She was trying very hard not to all out laugh, her eyes danced with it and he was so happy to see it.

"Oh mon amour!" she said, laughter escaping despite her best efforts to contain it. "I zink I am rubbing off on you!"

"Why do you...say that?" he asked.

"Because you just said 'mon dieu'. Not 'my god'...mon dieu."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Why was he apologizing for that?

"Do we have to discuss ze not being shy again?" she asked playfully. "Do not apologize for zings zat do not need apologizing for."

"Mm, no, ma'am," he replied just as playfully. Her eyes widened and she gasped.

"Did you just ma'am me?"

"Yes, ma'am. I did...just ma'am you."

She put on a face that was supposed to look angry but failed completely, and when she saw Richard trying to keep a straight face she couldn't keep herself from laughing.

"Oh, mon amour," she said, closing the distance between them. She raised her hands, as if she were going to lay them on his chest but she lowered them again quickly. She had never been shy about touching him (she kept him satisfied whether he really needed it or not; he didn't know that she was trying to see if she COULD do it. He didn't know that she was afraid he would leave her if she couldn't or didn't. He only knew that he felt guilty for enjoying a favor he could not return.), but Richard knew that it was different now because she was naked before him. The nervousness was back, evident in every line of her body.

"Simonne," he brought his hands up and placed them on her shoulders, his movements slow and deliberate.

"I want too, mon amour. So much I want to do zis." Tears were welling in her eyes. "Vraiment, I do. Et I know you will not hurt me."

"Never," he promised.

"Je sais. I know zis dans ma coeur...in my heart et my mind et even in my body. Mais...I am afraid." Her voice broke on the last words, and a piece of Richard broke with it.

"You don't have...to be, but I understand. Mm, that you are." That didn't sound as comforting as he wanted it too. "I understand why...you are."

"Can you explain it zen?" she asked, trying to smile, trying so hard to be happy. "Because it does not make sense to me. If I know you will not hurt me zen why do I fear to be with you?"

Richard thought very carefully, after all how do you explain a gut feeling?

"They took something...beautiful," he finally said, his words carefully chosen and completely from the heart. "And they. Mm, twisted it. Abused it. They...ignored you...your choices...your. Mm, wishes. And they hurt you. Of course...you're scared."

"But I do not want to be! When it is you I know I do not need to be..." Her frustration was evident in her voice.

"I can't explain why," he told her. "I wish...I could. Mm, I wish I could...make it all better. But only time. Can do that." His right hand came up and tenderly rested on her cheek. He had never noticed it before, but his hand, from the edge of his palm to the tips of his fingers, was larger than her face. She wasn't tiny compared to him; yes she had to stand on her toes to put her chin on his shoulder but just barely, but right now, when she was so scared and vulnerable, Richard felt imposing and gigantic, like he was towering over her and he wondered if she found it intimidating.

"But I still do not understand why I feel fear when I know you will not hurt me."

"Why are you. Afraid of thunderstorms, mm. After all these years?" She couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation. "Fear doesn't...always make sense, but. Mm it does. Help to keep you alive."

"Is zat how you got zought ze war? By being afraid?"

"Sometimes, yes..."

"Of course you would have. Zat was a silly zing for me to ask." She shook her head at her stupidity and added "How could you have had a moment without fear over zere?"

"It wasn't always. So bad," he said. "Sometimes we. Were safe. Sometimes we were...too tired of it all. To be afraid. A couple of times...we were too drunk." A flicker of memory, walking down a cobbled street with Jenkins, O'Malley, Hill and Gillespie. Well, stumbling down the street; their laughter didn't help their drunken shuffling at all and Hill mentioned as they left the small village that if they had any sense they would have tried to catch a ride back, and didn't that half mile back to camp seem to be taking forever? Gillespie said he had to piss, and he ducked off the road to relieve himself against a small shrub...

Richard realized Simonne had asked him something and pulled himself from the memory, asking her to repeat herself.

"It matter, mon amour. I should not make you zink of zings zat are possibly sad for you." She placed a tender kiss on his cheek and said "Let us go to bed. It is late, et you are meeting with Monsieur Thompson in ze morning."

Richard realized much later that Simonne had managed to deflect the conversation away from herself once again, and this time he didn't find it quite as charming. It actually concerned him, but he didn't know how to make her talk if she wasn't willing.

***...***...***...***...***...***...

"I completely understand," Nucky said. "I wouldn't want the woman I loved mixed up in this either. I can't help but think Simonne would be good at it, though." The last was said as one final attempt to change Richard's mind.

"She would be. Very good at it" Richard agreed. "It's the ones that are. Mm very good at it. That end up in the worst...situations."

"That's true enough. You're staying on with me? You haven't changes your mind about it?"

"No. You've treated me fairly. And, mm. You pay well."

"Is that all it is? The money?" Richard just shrugged. "Why did you stay? You know what I did. I killed your best friend, yet you still agreed to work for me. Why? It has to be more than the money."

"As I said. You...were kind to me. Also...I didn't agree with Jimmy. With his, mm. Decision to...go against you."

"Why did you follow him?"

"He was. Mm like a brother to me. And I was hoping. To save him."

"But he never listened to any thing you said that was remotely wise, did he? Don't try to deny it," Nucky chided. "I knew James Darmody a lot longer than you and I know full well he was hard headed. He got that from his parents. Whiskey?"

"No, thank you."

"Suit yourself," Nucky said as he poured. "Speaking of James' parents, are you still working at Gillian Darmody's whorehouse?"

"Not as much. Because of Simonne and Tommy."

"And how is young Thomas?" Nucky asked, genuinely curious.

"As well as. Mm, can be...given the situation."

"I can't believe Gillian is raising him in a brothel." Nucky shook his head and knocked back the rest of his drink. He took a moment to appreciate the smooth burn as the liquor went down then he asked Richard a question that had been bothering him for a very long , a question that he doubted any one but Richard would give him an honest answer to.

"How involved with my take down was Gillian Darmody?"

Richard shifted his weight slightly, and the thumb of his right hand rubbed against the fingers, a subtle,.subconscious gesture of unease; it usually presaged him pulling a gun. But that was not the solution to this problem. And Richard didn't think the truth was, either.

"In this situation. Mm, the blood ties weren't... As thick as they should have been."

"That doesn't make sense! Richard! Would you come back...son of a bitch!"


	6. Chapter 6

Tommy loved spending time with Richard and Simonne. Not only did they live in the beach house, which he liked much more than the big house Gillian lived in, but they actuary did things with him that he enjoyed. Gillian would take him shopping, which he hated with a passion; Richard and Simonne took him to the boardwalk, which he loved because they would play games and eat food he probably shouldn't be eating (he wasn't allowed cotton candy any more...apparently his running around on a sugar rush at midnight didn't sit well with either Richard or Simonne). They played all sorts of games with him, which Gillian never had time to do. Richard would get on the floor with him to play with his toys, and sometimes Simonne would play a princess who had been kidnapped by the evil pirate Richard and it would be up to Tommy to rescue her.

He would have spent every night at the beach house if he could have. When he was at the big house, he had to go to his room at six and he couldn't leave until morning. He didn't know why;only that the girls who lived in the house had friends over and Tommy wasn't supposed to know about it. It was just one of those grown up things that didn't make sense.

But that stopped being so bad when Simonne started coming over on nights that Richard had to work. She would play with him, or watch him draw, or read to him, whatever he wanted; then she would help him get ready for bed, read him a story and tuck him in for the night. It helped keep Tommy distracted during those long hours of banishment to his room and made the time fly.

The weather took a turn toward spring in late April, and true to his word, Richard took Tommy camping.

The woods were just showing green, the air smelled fresh and new as only spring air can smell. Richard showed Tommy how to pitch a tent, how to properly build a fire, and then he showed the little boy how to lay very still and silent while they waited for dinner to appear. Tommy tried very hard to emulate Richard, who was so still he didn't even appear to be breathing, but it was so difficult! It seemed that the more still he tried to be, the more his body wanted to move. He tried holding his breath and then biting his lip and even squeezing his hands into the tightest fists he could manage, anything to try to suppress the urge to jump up and scream. He got so involved in trying to stay still and quiet that when Richard pulled the trigger of his rifle, Tommy squealed in surprise and jumped.

"Sorry Uncle Richard," he sheepishly said once his heart slowed down. "I didn't scare away dinner did I?"

"No," Richard told him. "Dinner...is waiting. Over there." Then he smiled at Tommy and proudly told the boy "Good job. Mm, staying still. And quiet...is the hardest part." Tommy smiled up at Richard, exceptionally pleased that he'd made Richard proud.

Richard was showing Tommy how to skin and gut the rabbit when an unexpected guest showed up at their campsite. Richard knew him as an old soldier who wasn't beyond sticking his cold wet nose into other people's business. Tommy only saw the kind of dog his mother would have told him to avoid; filthy, matted, scarred.

"Uncle Richard?" He said quietly, his eyes never leaving to dog.

"He's ...an old friend," Richard said as the dog slowly approached, sniffing the air.

"He looks mean." Tommy's voice was a whisper, as if he were afraid the dog would hear and take offense. The dog stopped a few feet from them, sitting down and cocking his head at Richard.

"Don't let..appearances fool you," Richard said gently. "That dog. Mm, saved my life."

"Really?" Suddenly the dog was less menacing and much more interesting. "How'd he do that?"

"I was doing...something stupid. He, mm. Stole my mask and led me. On a merry chase." Richard hoped Tommy wasn't going to ask for details.

"What were you doing?"

"It's not something...Gillian would want me. To talk about," Richard said evasively.

"But she's not here," Tommy pointed out. "And I can keep a secret."

"It's not that. Mm, it's just..." Richard debated about telling Tommy the truth. The boy was so young, and it wasn't an age appropriate topic, but he had been handed so many lies and half-truths so far in his short life and Richard didn't really want to add more to the pile.

"It's because I'm just a little boy and I'm too young to understand." Tommy's tone was resigned. Obviously he had heard that before, many times, and it sounded like he was tired of it. Richard looked at him for a long minute and made up his mind.

"I was not...a happy man," Richard started slowly. "I didn't...feel like I belonged any where. I didn't even. Mm, feel human, sometimes. I hope you never.. understand what that's like."

"Mommy said you were sad because you didn't know about love any more," Tommy interrupted. "I thought love was something you just knew...um..." His little face scrunched as he thought about the word he wanted. It was one of those big ones that adults used a lot. "Um...In-stink-ily?"

"Instinctively," Richard gently corrected. "It is, mm. But in order to love other people...you have to be able to love yourself."

"Oh." Tommy didn't entirely understand that, but he wasn't going to say that for fear Richard would stop talking. He liked when Richard talked, because Richard didn't talk to him like he was only a little boy who didn't understand anything. Tommy felt grown-up when Richard talked to him. "Did you not love yourself?"

"I hated myself," Richard admitted. "Sometimes I still do, mm. But...I'm getting better about it. Simonne doesn't let me...mm, get too low. And neither do you," he smiled at Tommy. "About a year ago...I was, mm. at a very low point. Everything...hurt and I couldn't...bear it, any more. So I came out here and I...tried to kill myself. I was a...second away when he," Richard waved at the dog, who thumped his tail once as if he knew he was the subject of conversation, "came up and, mm. Ran off with my mask. I chased him. mm, but he eluded me. he took my mask to...another camp, Glenmore and Pete...we'll see if, mm. They're around tomorrow. Long story short...I figured out why...it was foolish to try and kill myself."

"Why?"

"Without suffering, you...can't appreciate the gifts life gives you," Richard said softly. He wondered how his life would have been different if he had never come out here that day last May. Would Angela and Jimmy still be alive? Would he be with Simonne? He would never know the answer to that what if, but he did know that he had been blessed in the eleven months since that day, even if pain had come with those blessings.

"I'm glad the dog stopped you," Tommy said, looking at the scruffy beast. "What's his name?"

"Don't know," Richard admitted. "For all I know, mm. He doesn't have one."

"All dogs have names," Tommy said patiently, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You can't not name a dog."

"Well, I've...never figured it out," Richard said as he went back to preparing dinner. "He's his own man...erm...dog. He does what he wants. When he wants, and I don't think he...cares what any one else thinks about that."

"I bet he's got a strong name, like Duke or Rocky or Killer or King..."

The dog barked, and his tail started wagging happily. Tommy and Richard both looked at him curiously.

"You're name...is King?" Richard said to the dog, and again, the dog barked as if he were saying 'Yes, and it's about time you figured that out!'

"Told you it was a strong name," Tommy said.

"I never thought...it was something like 'Fluffy'," Richard replied with a half-smile. "Well, nice to...officially meet you, King."

And as if that was all he had been waiting for, King padded over to sit between Richard and Tommy, tongue lolling out of his mouth, tail wagging happily, looking from the man to the boy and then somewhat greedily to the rabbit Richard was prepping.

"I think he's hungry," Tommy said. "Can we feed him?"

"We'll see," Richard replied. "I know he can't have...squirrel bones. I don't know, mm. about rabbit..."

Tommy ended up feeding King scraps of meat, since the rabbit wasn't entirely to his liking. After they had eaten, King scampered off for a minute, coming back with a stick in his mouth that he dropped at Tommy's feet. Tommy tossed the stick, and King fetched it, and Richard watched the little boy play with the dog, and couldn't help but think back to his own youth, and the dogs they had had on the farm, including one who would fetch things and then make you wrestle them out of his mouth. King wasn't like that, and the dog and the boy played fetch for nearly an hour; King called a halt to the game by simply laying down after Tommy threw the stick. Richard decided it was a good time to go to bed, and he and Tommy crawled into the tent and settled down for the night, King keeping guard just outside. In the morning, after a small breakfast, Richard, Tommy and King took a walk through the woods, Richard pointing little things out to Tommy, like a woodpecker high in a tree, or the mother pheasant and her chicks cutting through the underbrush. The did eventually happen upon Pete and Glenmore, the two woodmen were sitting around their fire drinking laced coffee. They were the last two people Gillian would want Tommy to know, but Richard didn't particularly care what Gillian thought at this point. He figured Tommy could learn a lot from the men; Richard certainly had. Tommy loved it; the two men looked like they lived by their own rules and didn't give a flip what anyone thought or said, which is what any child dreams of. Plus, they told very interesting stories. They were pleasantly surprised to learn that the dog's name was King, although Pete grumbled that he had tried that one and not gotten any response.

"Maybe he just didn't like you enough to acknowledge you," Glenmore mumbled into his cup.

"All the food I've fed him over the years? You'd think he had some fondness for me."

"Not sayin' it makes sense," Glenmore retorted. "Just sayin' he's got his own agenda."

"What's a genda?" Tommy asked.

"Plans," Glenmore told him. "That dog's been running through these woods a long time, son. He does what he does, and no man's gonna change that. He's probably the only one out here who know exactly what he's gonna do with his life."

"Listen to you goin' on like you're some philospher," Pete said. "Like you know the mysteries of life."

Glenmore shot Pete a look but said nothing more to his friend; instead he turned to Richard and said "That trip you mentioned? You ever take it?"

"I did," Richard said, holding his mug out for more coffee. "It was...eventful"

"Is that a good thing?"

"Depends on...how you look at it," Richard said. He liked Pete and Glenmore, although he didn't exactly consider them friends. They were simple  
men who lived their lived the way they wanted, almost completely removed from the world. He wasn't sure if they would care about the details, and anyway Tommy was sitting right there listening attentively so he couldn't very well go into it.

"Richard brought a girl home," Tommy chirped helpfully. "Well, I guess she's really a woman cause she's old...she talks funny, and she talks a lot and she's teaching me French."

"I wouldn't...call Simonne 'old' where she can hear you," Richard said with a chuckle.

"Gillian said Simonne is a young foolish piece of..." He trailed off when Richard gave him a disapproving look. "Well, you know that...derogatory...word," he finished sheepishly.

Richard was going to have to explain to Tommy about how it wasn't polite to repeat everything a person said. He was also going to have to talk to Gillian about watching what she said in front of Tommy. He didn't understand how a woman who went out of her way to keep the youngster she was raising in a whorehouse from seeing anything would toss around phrases like 'piece of pussy' in front of him.

"Who's Gillian?" Pete asked.

"My daddy's Mommy," Tommy informed him. "She lives in the big house that used to belong to my Daddy's daddy, with a bunch of pretty girls. Some of them are really nice, like Madison and Rosie. Especially Madison...I think she's the nicest one there. Don't you think so, Uncle Richard?"

"Madison is very nice, yes," Richard agreed, hoping the conversation would change, and quickly.

"So she runs some sort of boarding house?" Glenmore asked.

"Sort of," Richard said.

"Is it the kind of boarding house gentlemen visit for a few hours?" Richard nodded. "Does the boy live there?" Again Richard nodded. "Must be nice," Glenmore mused.

"I don't like living there," Tommy informed him. "I'd rather live with Richard and Simonne. They're fun and we play great games and if I have a nightmare they don't just tell me to go back to bed and forget about it and..." Tommy rambled on, Pete and Glenmore nodded where appropriate although neither of them cared. They were solitary men, content to be on their own. But they remembered Richard from the first time they met him; hard to  
forget someone that bleak. Richard had come to the woods on a few occasions since that day in May, and he had spent some time at the fire with them, so they knew some of his life's ups and downs. Not all of them, although they had known Richard was taking care of Tommy, and they knew about his lady friend. Neither of them quite envied him, but they were happy for him.

Richard and Tommy went back to their own campsite around the time the sun started setting; neither thought it odd that King went with them. Dinner was squirrel, and after they had eaten and cleaned up (Richard was going to have to remember to take the bones out if his pockets before Simonne did didn't trust King to not dig them up if he buried them, and he didn't want the dog to choke) they sat by the fire and talked. Nothing important, just talked. At some point in the conversation, King came over and laid down next to Tommy, placing his chin on the boy's leg. Tommy scratched between his ears absently as the fire crackled and died down.

"Do we have to go back to Gillian's, Uncle Richard? Can't we just stay here?"

Richard gave a small chuckle. "It's appealing, but you'll grow to miss...the simple things. Like walls, and heat, and a comfortable bed."

"We have walls," Tommy waved to the tent. "And heat," he said, nodding to the fire.

"'What about Gillian? Wouldn't...you miss her?"

"She can come live here too. And Simonne if she wants."

Richard tried very hard to imagine Simonne in the woods and he just couldn't do it and keep a straight face. Same thing when he tried to picture Gillian out here, although for vastly different reasons.. Both women would be completely out of their element, but while he could see Simonne laughing about how inept she would be, he could only see Gillian growing angry when things didn't conform to her standards. He brushed his amusing mental images aside and said "We do have to go home. Mm, but we'll make plans...to come out again."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

It was enough to pacify Tommy, who ended up crawling into the tent shortly after that and falling asleep, leaving Richard and King sitting by the fire. The dog laid with on his paws and regarded Richard through half open eyes. Richard wondered why the dog was being so social; the other occasions Richard had come to the woods King would usually come around for a short visit (always around eating time) then go on his way. Richard figured the dog was just making the rounds, assuring himself that there was no mischief going on in his territory. And maybe the dog was curious about Tommy; maybe once upon a time there was a little boy that used to play fetch with him and feed him table scraps and scratch that spot right between the ears. That made Richard wonder what happened to that hypothetical little boy, curious about how the dog got out here...

"I wish you could talk," Richard mused. King raised his head for a moment before lowering again when the man said nothing more. Richard looked at the dog for a few more minutes, then banked the fire and climbed into the tent for the night.

Simonne spent the weekend at Gillian's; Richard did not want her to be alone for that long. Simonne could understand that, and gave no protest when he dropped her off. And all things considered it wasn't too bad being there. She often spent a few hours there when Richard had to work, so she had made some friends among Gillian's girls.

That didn't mean she was entirely comfortable being there, though. She would have stayed locked in her room the entire time if Gillian hadn't begged her to come down and mingle.

"You bring a certain freshness," Gillian said. "Something different from what the girls offer. The guests would love to hear you talk about what Paris is like, and...well perhaps my girls will learn a touch of Continental charm from you."

Simonne couldn't say no; she felt like she was imposing on Gillian and she needed to do something to earn her keep, so she nervously went downstairs on Friday night.

Madison saw her enter the sitting room and came over, a look of concern on her face. Simonne had taken an instant liking to the woman, partially because Madison never hesitated to say what she was really thinking, and partially because, of all the women in Gillian's employ, Madison was the only one who looked at Richard like he was a human; not a curiosity or a freak who wandered away from his side show.

"What're you doing down here?" Madison asked.

"*Zhillian*, she asked me to come down et...mingle. I zink she wants me to bore ze customers quickly so zey will run to your arms faster."

"I don't think they'll find you boring," Madison said with a shake of her head. "Quite the opposite, in fact."

"It will be what it will be. It is ze least I can do to repay *_Zhillian_* her kindness for letting me stay while *_Ree-shard_* et *_Toh-mee*_ are away."

Madison raised one eyebrow but said nothing. She didn't understand some of what Simonne did or the odd logic behind some of the things she thought. But she was a good kid, and Madison liked her. There was just something...off...about her, something that she tried to keep hidden, and managed to do a fairly good job at it. It made Madison slightly protective of her, although to be honest that might have been because of Richard, who reminded her a lot of her younger brother.

"Don't let anyone talk you into doing anything you don't want to do," Madison warned. "The lot we get here are pretty decent fellows, usually, but that doesn't mean they're angels."

"*_Ree-shard_* has taught me how to protect myself. I will be fine, mais I appreciate your concern."

It turned out to be a lot like the parties Simonne had had to attend in Paris; talk to a bunch of people she didn't know, act like she was interested in what they were talking about, smile a lot, and make sure their glasses were never empty. At least she didn't have Marie glaring at her disapprovingly from across the room; just Gillian occasionally looking at her oddly but not necessarily unkindly. Simonne wasn't sure if it meant anything, so she didn't dwell on it. She moved from cluster to couple, smiling, chatting, offering drinks, and before she realized it, it was very quite in the house and Gillian was politely shooing the last of the guests out the massive front door.

"Is it morning?" one of the girls asked sleepily from one of the chaise lounges. "I can go upstairs alone, stay there and actually enjoy my bed?"

"If you find the work too rigorous, Ann, you are welcome to seek employment elsewhere," Gillian said. There was a smile on her face but her tone was not friendly. "You knew what would be involved when you were hired. I would think you would all be grateful to have a job that doesn't require great skill or effort, along with the added bonus of a roof over your heads..."

"Too bad it leaks," someone sniggered from the far side of the room. Gillian shot a glare in that direction but she couldn't identify the speaker to call her out.

"I am working on getting that fixed," she said as calmly as possible. "You would not believe how much they want to do the job." She took a breath and smoothed her skirt as she regained her composure and train of thought, the one she had originally planned. "We're liable to be busier than normal tomorrow," she said, smiling and looking over the girls fondly. "I want all of you to get a good night's sleep so you're well rested. When you wake up, feel free to go into town or relax on the grounds if you like. I'm proud of you all. Now, off to bed my lovelies." Gillian looked like a mother duck herding her babes to shelter as she shooed her employees upstairs. Simonne stood and followed, suddenly exhausted now that she had stopped moving.

"Simonne," Gillian turned and stopped, waiting for Simonne to catch up. "Thank you so much. You were wonderful tonight. You managed to keep on top of the little things that take so much of my time; I was able to get a few things done that normally get neglected."

Simonne smiled. "I am glad zat I was able to help."

"You've done this before."

"It was like ze parties my family gave. Only zis does not end with Marie screaming at me for doing zings wrong."

"I won't scream at you, dear." Gillian put her arm around Simonne's shoulder and gave the younger woman a maternal squeeze. "There are some small things I would rather you did slightly different..."

"Oh?"

"When a gentleman asks you to join him for a drink, you should accept. Even if you only have a sip or two."

"Oh, oui. I zought you would want ze liquor for ze guests. I am sorry."

"No need to apologize, dear," Gillian assured her as they walked up the stairs. "Also, don't be afraid to sit closer to the gentlemen. You were coming across as a little stand-offish."

"I was? I did not mean to..."

"It's alright. You're new to this, but I've been doing it for a while. I'm always happy to share my knowledge with you young ones. If you ever have questions, please don't hesitate to come to me."

"Merci, *Zhillian*. Zat is very zoughtful of you."

"Off to bed with you, dear." Gillian smiled and gave Simonne a gentle push towards her room. "Big day tomorrow."

And it was busy. The club didn't open until six and as soon as Gillian unlocked the main doors, guests filed in. Simonne found herself playing hostess again, and as the evening progressed she slowly relaxed into the role. She kept Gillian's advice in mind; she sipped at whiskey and she sat or stood closer to the guests...which became much easier for her as she had more whiskey. She talked, she laughed, she listened to stories, and watched as this girl or that would disappeared upstairs with one guest or another. She couldn't dwell on that part of what was happening around her, not sure if she was comfortable with that or not, but she did notice who came back down smiling and in good spirits, and who did not. And when she saw an unhappy female face, she would hurry over to the girl to ask what was wrong and if there was anything she could do to help. She was usually told that the woman was fine...it was just 'one of those things'...or 'not the smoothest session'...her offer of help was appreciated but there was nothing she could do. Her kindness that night, and on many nights to come, would go a long way with the women of the Artemis Club.

By the time closing came around, Simonne was drunker than she had ever been in her life. She was enjoying it, too. She felt carefree and light and tingly, and she really couldn't image anything being wrong anywhere. Everything made her giggle, especially herself as she tried to haul herself up the stairs. If Madison hadn't been right behind her, she probably would have fallen down the stairs and broken her neck.

"Is this the first time you're drunk?" Madison asked Simonne as she steadied the drunk woman.

"Ze first time to be zis drunk, oui. Et...never...never drunk on whiskey. Zat is very different from wine. I feel...I...I seem to have forgotten what I was going to say." She giggled and continued up the steps, not completely registering that Madison's hand on the small of her back was the only thing keeping her upright at this point. She the landing, Madison still right behind her.

"All of ze doors look ze same," Simonne noted. "How do you know which room is yours?"

"You make six or seven trips to it a night, you eventually just know. I'm more concerned right now about which room is *yours*."

"I zink it is zis one. Or is it zat one...I do not know."

Madison opened the door to Simonne's room (she knew which it was even if the drunk French woman didn't) and got Simonne inside.

"You're on your own from here, kid," Madison said. "I would keep that basin close by, if I were you. You'll probably need it."

"Merci, Madison. Bon nuit."

One she was alone, Simone slipped out of her clothes and into one of Richard's shirts, which she had brought to wear to bed. It was soft and smelled like him, and it gave her some comfort even though she missed him greatly, especially at night. She laid down in bed and wished Richard was there to snuggle up with. But he wasn't, so she tried to get comfortable laying against a pillow like she laid against Richard, but it wasn't the same at all. She missed him, and she could feel one if her panic attacks setting in.

"Non, non, non," she muttered, twisting the pillow in her hands and trying to force the feelings back down. Her breath was growing short, and her thoughts were a quick fire confusing jumble; flashbacks to her rape, happy moments with Richard, and a strange frighten combination of the two where Richard was the attacker and those who had been so cruel to her were the ones offering kindness. She knew that wasn't right...Richard would never hurt her...he was the one thing she could count on...Richard would never hurt her...he was the one thing she could count on.

"Ree-shard will not hurt me. He will not lie to me. He will not be cruel...Ree-shard will not hurt me. He will not lie to me. He will not be cruel..." Over and over she repeated it, hoping to convince her mind to stop showing her such ridiculous images. "Ree-shard will not hurt me..." She spoke in a whisper, not wanting the occupants in the rooms on either side to hear her and come inquiring about what was wrong.

Eventually she passed out, exhaustion and the booze finally winning out over her restless mind, although she was restless from vague nightmares that she would not recall when she woke.

King followed Richard and Tommy to the car.

"Can we take him home, Uncle Richard?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't think Gillian. Would approve."

"But you have a house. And I don't think Simonne would mind."

"But what...if she did? I don't know...if she likes dogs."

"Simonne likes everyone. And she has to like King, 'cause he's a hero since he saved your life."

"I still don't think. Mm, we should take him home."

"But why?" Tommy's voice was creeping towards whining. Richard could easily have said 'Because I said so', but that had never been a satisfactory answer for him when he was Tommy's age and he had sworn he would never use it with his own children.

"You don't just...bring a dog home. Especially one you...don't really know."

"But..."

Richard gave Tommy a stern look when the boy interrupted; they had discussed how rude it was many times; and the boy closed his mouth and waited.

"Simonne is very easy going, mm. But I'm pretty sure she'd like to...be part of the decision about whether we have a pet. And we don't know that King would make a good house dog. He's been...running free in the woods a very long time. He's probably grown used to being in charge of his own life."

Tommy waited until he was sure Richard was done talking then said "But doesn't he get lonely out here? I wouldn't want to be out here by myself for very long."

"He has Pete and Glenmore," Richard pointed out. "Mm, and we'll be back to visit him."

Tommy nodded with resignation. It wasn't the answer he had wanted but he knew there was no use arguing with Richard, because of all the adults that had been in Tommy's life Richard was the least likely to give in to his pleading. So Tommy helped put the gear in the car, but before he climbed in he ran over to King and threw his arms around the dog's neck.

"I wish I could take you home but Uncle Richard doesn't think it's a good idea and maybe he's right but he promises we'd come camping again so I guess I'll see you then. Be good and don't eat any bones that you might choke on and if you get lonely go to Pete and Glenmore, they'll keep you company."

Watching Tommy hug King was almost enough to change Richard's mind. Almost. He didn't want Simonne angry with him for bringing a stray home without discussing it with her first.

"We should go," Richard said gently. "I promised Gillian. I'd have you home at a decent time."

Tommy broke away from the dog with one last ear scratch; he was rewarded with a big, slobbery dog kiss from jaw to temple.

"Ew!" Tommy giggled and wiped his face with his sleeve. He climbed into the car with Richard and looked out the window as they drove off, watching the dog recede to a dark shadow under the trees.

It was just past noon when they pulled up to the grand mansion that had belonged to the Commodore. Richard grabbed Tommy's small bag and they went inside, greeted almost instantly by Gillian.

"There's my two handsome woodsmen," she said with a bright smile as she bent down to hug Tommy. "Oh my. You smell like you rolled around in a leaf pile with a wet dog." Her pert little nose crinkled in slight disgust.

"King wasn't wet, but he did kind of smell funny," Tommy informed his grandmother happily.

"And who is King?"

"King is the dog in the woods that Uncle Richard knows. He's missing the top of his ear and his nose is all scarred up but he plays fetch and he likes to have his head scratched and I wanted to bring him home but Uncle Richard didn't think that was a good idea."

"Uncle Richard was right. Now run upstairs and pick out some toys for a bath. I'll be up to help you in a few minutes."

"Okay. 'Bye Uncle Richard." He took one step towards the stairs, but he turned back and ran to Richard, hugging the tall man's legs and beaming up at him. "Thank you for taking me camping. I had lots of fun."

"Me, too," Richard said, placing his hand on the boy's head and smiling down at him. "Now go do as... Gillian told you."

Tommy scampered off, leaving Gillian and Richard alone.

"Thank you for...letting me take him," Richard said to Gillian.

"I'm sure it was enjoyable for you both. And Tommy does need a steady father figure in his life. You're not his real father of course, but you can show him the things James would have, if...if he were still with us." Gillian sounded like she was fighting tears, which made Richard feel uncomfortable because he wasn't sure what, if any, comfort to offer her. He felt this way every time she got this way; maybe he could ask Simonne's advice?

"Anyway," Gillian said, quickly regaining her composure, "I'm glad you boys had an enjoyable time. It does Tommy good to get out of this house full of women from time to time."

"You wouldn't mind...if we went again. In a few weeks?"

"Of course not. And Simonne is welcome to stay here whenever you go." Gillian looped her arm through Richard's, much as Simonne was wont to do. But Gillian doing it made him tense and want to pull back his arm, although he was far too gentlemanly to do so. The feeling of unease grew in the pit of his stomach as Gillian led him towards the bar. "She was such a help this weekend. I was able to tend to some of the guests...personally... while she handled so many of the small things. She's quite the hostess; many of the gentlemen were charmed by her."

Richard wasn't entirely sure how he felt hearing this. While part of him was happy to hear that Simonne didn't spend two days locked upstairs and that she had socialized, part of him was upset; a vague sense of jealousy and a sharp pang of worry that she was chatting with a bunch of men who were there only for sex. Would they think that she... No, he told himself, it would never come to that. Simonne could handle herself; he had made sure of that. And, despite his mistrust of Gillian, he had enough faith in her capability as a business woman to prevent something like that.

"Where is Simonne?"

"Upstairs yet. We were rather busy last night, all the girls are exhausted. She's up in Maggie's old room. Did you know Maggie?"

"We spoke, once." If you could call a distraught woman yelling at him to get his fucking ruined face out of her God-damned fucking way while he did his best to hide his face and get out of her way as speaking. "Right after she...heard about her mother."

"Ah yes...such a shame. It's hard losing someone you care about to a senseless murder..." Again, her voice sounded in the verge of tears. Richard awkwardly covered her hand with his and said "You have to...remember the joy. A person brought you, and...not dwell on the sorrow of. Their passing." That didn't sound quite as good as he had hoped, but Gillian appreciated the attempted comfort. "Thank you, dear," she said as she covered his hand with her other one. "Very wise words, but I suppose you've had enough experience with death to know." She heaved a long suffering sigh and patted his hand. "Go see to Simonne, dear. I need to make sure Tommy isn't flooding his bathroom." She let go of Richard and went on her way. Richard watched her retreating back for a moment before he headed up to the floor of the house where Gillian's employees practiced their trade. He thought it odd that Gillian had put Simonne here, when there was plenty of room in the family wing of the house, but there was likely a logical reason that he just wasn't seeing. No reason to be concerned, he told himself. It didn't really help to ease the discomfort, but he decided it was because he was worried about her and felt just the slightest bit guilty for going off for a few days. He reached the floor and started walking down the hall, quickly realizing he didn't know which room Simonne would be in; all the doors looked the same and he had only been up here a couple of times. He simply started knocking and calling her name up until one of the women shouted through he door that Simonne was at the other end of the hall, and he needed to knock off the racket. Richard finally heard a muffled French reply in answer to his knocking. He opened the door, softly calling her name. Simonne was sprawled on the bed with her head buried under a pillow.

"Are you...alright," he asked softly as he sat down on the edge of the bed and gently rubbed her back.

"Non. Everyzing hurts et I do not like it." She was sure that if she moved the pillow her head was liable to explode outward. Of course, if that happened, then her stomach wouldn't threaten to forcefully climb up her throat every time she moved.

"A hot shower...will help." Richard attempted to move the pillow, but she clamped it more firmly to her head.

"I can not move."

"I'll carry you to the bathroom."

"Non...s'il vous plait...leave me to be miserable."

"You're being, mm. Melodramatic," he told her.

"I am being honest. Do not make me say more. J'ai un mal de tete horrible."

"I know." He massaged her shoulders with just enough pressure to ease some of the ache in her head; she might be a stranger to hangovers but he wasn't. "You'll feel a little better...once you get moving. Let's get you dressed, and home. You can, mm. Feel miserable in the...comfort of your own bed."

"Tres bien," she said unenthusiastically. "I will get moving." But she stayed where she was, and Richard kept rubbing her shoulders, for five minutes, at which point he began encouraging her to get up.

"Oui! Oui! I am moving."

"No, you're not."

"Ze room is spinning."

"That's your head." There was a slightly amused tone in his voice that Simonne did not particularly care for, She just didn't have the energy to say anything to him. "Where is your face?" he asked, trying once more to pull the pillow away from her head. "I'd like...to see it." She muttered something that made him laugh and say "I don't care if. Mm it's ...'poof-fee'...I still want to see it."

"Non, because you are making fun of ze way I talk."

"Then you leave me...no choice," he said, standing up. "I'm going to get a pitcher of cold water...and dump it on you." That got her to raise the pillow and glare at him. He knelt beside the bed and smiled at her. Yes, her face was puffy, splotchy and she looked like she hadn't slept very well, but she was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. "Hey there,...Sunshine. Don't...growl at me."

"I am sorry, mon amour. I am not a pleasant after drinking person, it seems." She managed a smile, and added "I am happy to see you. I missed you very much. But you et Toh-mee had fun?"

"Yes. I'll tell you about it...when you feel better. Ready to...go home?" It took her a while but she finally managed to get moving. Richard took her home, where a hot shower and light lunch made her feel human again. Richard told her about the camping trip, then he asked her how her weekend had gone. She recounted things that had happened, or silly stories that had been told, and she repeated a dirty joke one of the gentlemen had told and ask Richard to explain to her why it was funny. He tried to explain it about six different ways but she still didn't get it. Finally she shrugged and said it wasn't important, then subtly changed the subject to him and what he had planned with Tommy in the near future. Richard told her that they would be going camping again soon, and how maybe they'd catch a movie sometime, and she nodded and smiled and managed to distract Richard from the fact that she never said how she had felt during her time with Gillian.


End file.
